


And Reality Comes Crumbling

by catastrophicsetback



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen, Molestation, Sexual Assault, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 14:43:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catastrophicsetback/pseuds/catastrophicsetback
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He tells himself that it’s different, at first, that he can’t possibly compare their situations when Ryder was so innocent and Sam was so definitely not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Reality Comes Crumbling

**Author's Note:**

> Strong trigger warnings for semi-detailed descriptions of sexual assault. Read at your own risk.

It takes Sam five days of hardly any sleep, little food, and far too many exhausting workout sessions before he works up the courage to speak to Ryder.

The dude hasn’t even looked at Sam or Artie since the incident in the choir room went down, let alone spoken to them, and Sam is pretty sure the guy’s deleted his number and de-friended him on Facebook. He can’t say he blames him, and honestly, he’s thankful for it.

Because ever since he let himself speak the words he’s forced himself to believe, that it’s  _every guy’s wet dream_  and that  _any guy would be lucky to touched by an older woman like that_ , he’s been haunted by the memories, sick to his stomach with the thought of what Ryder must’ve gone through, suddenly surrounded by little reminders of what he convinced himself was okay.

He tells himself it’s different, at first. That the women that touched him were just having fun, that it was to be expected, that he can’t possibly compare their situations when Ryder was so innocent and Sam was so definitely  _not_. But when he pulls on his boxer briefs after a shower, thumbs hooked inside the waistband until the very last moment, he remembers the way the women at the club let their fingers linger as they pushed singles into his briefs.

And when Artie pulls him onto his lap at the end of another glee practice in the auditorium, and he stumbles and ends up almost straddling him as he catches his balance, he remembers the way he’d straddled those women, grinding his hips forward and throwing his head back, pushing the shame out of his mind and focusing on getting the job done.

And when Tina’s hand grazes over his thigh as she reaches over him to grab the remote from Marley, he remembers the way the women’s hands did the same thing before finding his dick, pressing and rubbing as he danced on their laps, like there weren’t  _rules_  in place about  _touching_ , like they couldn’t hear him when he told them they weren’t allowed to do that.

When Blaine’s fingers brush over the back of his hand as he presses a tube of chapstick into his palm, he remembers the women that did the same thing when handing him money, leaning in close and whispering sinfully in his ear, thanking him for the show and promising to come again, leaving him standing there with soiled briefs and bile in his throat, tears stinging at his eyes with shame and disgust.

Their promises of more weren’t really promises like Sam led himself to believe, though; when he thinks about it now, they were more like threats. But no- they were promises, of course they were. He was a stripper, that was what he was there for, right? To be watched, and touched, and  _used_  like a sex toy you’d find hidden in the back of someone’s closet. It wasn’t a threat, couldn’t be a threat, it was just business - plain and simple. Sam had always been a fan of simplicity, so he let himself believe.

And when Brittany straddles his hips and eases herself onto his cock for the first time in a while, he’s blinded by the memories of the women from the club doing the same thing, even after he insisted that he  _wasn’t a prostitute, just a dancer_ , even after he explained and argued and did his best to make them understand why he didn’t want to go home with them. He goes soft and Brittany asks why, and he’s still buttoning up his shirt as he rushes out of her house in tears, shaking and barefoot, without giving her an answer.

Confronted with the reality of Ryder’s confession, hearing him admit out loud that someone had touched him when he didn’t want them to, that he had been  _molested_ , it brings Sam’s fabricated reality crashing to the ground. It terrifies him, the realisation that what happened to him was bad, that he never actually wanted it like he told himself he did, that guys  _could_  get molested and guys  _don’t_  always want sex.

He’s been lying to himself for so long and he doesn’t know how to handle it. It’s like he’s suffocating from the inside out, lost all of a sudden and so much more confused than he’s ever felt before.

But now that he knows, now that he’s aware, he can’t let it rest. He can’t let Ryder think that he’s one of  _them_ , one of the people so ignorant and so blinded that they can’t realise how horrible his situation is. And so he tracks him down at the end of the school day, finds him by his locker while everyone’s filtering out of the halls.

Sam’s hands are grasping the straps of his backpack like they’re his lifeline, his heart hammering in his chest and his cheeks already red by the time he swallows his fear and forces himself to go up to him.

“Hey, dude, can we- uh-” His throat constricts and he has to clear it again. He scuffs the toe of his shoe against the polished floor, looks down at his feet. “… Can we talk?”

There must be something in his voice that gives him away, because Ryder actually acknowledges him, turning his head slightly and pushing his locker door shut. “What’s up?” he asks, coolly. Like Sam hadn’t been a total dick to him just a few days ago.

“Um, I just- I wanted … I wanted to say that I’m just- I’m really sorry, man. What I said- about, um … about you and- and what you told us, it- I was out of line, and I’m just so sorry.”

There’s a beat of silence and Sam lifts his head, biting his lip anxiously. Ryder’s staring at the locker beside his own, brow furrowed in thought and eyes distant, before he turns his gaze to Sam’s. Sam looks away instantly, feeling sick.

“What changed your mind?”

“I, um- I just …” He looks around the emptying hallway self-consciously for a moment before stepping closer, leaning in and ducking his head. “I think … I think it might’ve … happened to me, too … I think I made myself believe all that stuff so I didn’t have to, uh- so I didn’t have to … to think about it, you know?”

He chances another glance at Ryder and finds the boy staring at him wide-eyed, lips parted, like he doesn’t know how to respond. “What, but- …  _dude_  …”

Sam sniffles and looks away again, clearing his throat. “I, um - back in Kentucky, I got a job at this, um … this strip joint, so I could help my family. It was kinda shady, but there were rules, you know? They weren’t- they weren’t supposed to touch us, or um … or expect us to do stuff with them, but … they didn’t listen, or- or care, and the bouncers never stopped them. I don’t-, I thought- … I told myself it was okay b-because of what I was doing, and- and because I’m a  _guy_ , and um, most of the time they … they paid me extra when- when they did stuff or- or made me … do stuff, but … you telling everyone that in glee club, it just- it makes it not okay, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to-“

Sam’s voice cracks and he stops talking immediately, looking down and wiping furiously at his eyes. Ryder’s silent for a while and Sam eventually sags against the lockers, feeling ashamed and embarrassed, completely vulnerable to the guy in front of him.

“Whatever they did to you was never okay, dude,” Ryder says eventually, his voice even and controlled, like he only took so long to speak because he was working out what to say first. “And I think you knew that. But … I think this all just makes it real for you, yeah?”

Sam chokes out a wet laugh and tears finally spill onto his cheeks, because Ryder’s right, he’s  _so_  right, and he nods his head just slightly in response. The next thing he knows, Ryder’s pushing a tissue into his hand and punching him lightly on his arm, starting to step away from his locker.

“Let’s go back to mine and play Halo, yeah?”

He knows what Ryder’s really asking is  _let’s get away from everyone else and talk in private, yeah?_ and he’s not really sure talking is what he wants to do, but he nods his head anyway and wipes his tears once again, letting out a feeble, _“Sure, dude,”_  before following him.

When Ryder throws an arm around his shoulders, it doesn’t make him remember the way the women had thrown themselves at him, clinging to his neck and giggling with their girlfriends. It just makes him feel safe and protected, and not alone, and for the first time since he realised the truth about his past in Kentucky, he feels like maybe it’ll be okay.

And he can only hope that maybe, just maybe, he can help Ryder start to feel like that, too.


End file.
